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It started as sexual harassment. And I let it happen. Do not let it happen to you! I was a college intern working on my supply-chain management major. In business school you know you don’t just get a degree and POOF! A job is magically waiting for you. Unless you already have connections. I was a single woman on financial aid and had squat for family connections. I needed to make some connections while still in school that I could use to climb the ladder. It is a very competitive world. A time when we don’t care so much where we work as long as it has prospects of advancement and making money. I was interning at the corporate offices for a rental car company. I got my first choice for a class in which we had to intern at a real company. My group of four was in their logistics offices and we had no clear job at the time but my school had sent students for a while so we had a contact person and some loose idea of a project that my group of four had to put together and execute for our grade. Well that was kind of of dud and I went along with the bad idea of planning more efficient distribution routes for their cars entering the fleet. It was naive because the company had real pros who designed the system. But, because of my feminine wiles, I got invited to come in and help in my free time by a top manager. Just me. I jumped at the opportunity and on my available days I showed up early in the morning and tried to be like part of the team. It was a very masculine environment. I tried to hang in spite of the pretenses for my special treatment. “You’re not one of those feminist types who go crying to HR if a man gives you a compliment or a pat on the backside, are you?” The man who first invited me had asked. We’ll call him XX. I assured him I was not, anticipating his expected answer. “Work hard, play hard,” was something I said in my denial of values he was obviously opposed to. So the couple times XX introduced me as his mistress I went along with the joke. Another stupid mistake. As an example of my environment, after a male Y in the department first showed me how to use part of a program that calculates stock outages, he had me sit and try it and gave me a massage I did not ask for early in the morning. Well XX came up and made a joke about Y getting his hands of his girl. They had some bro moment where the male Y asked him if he was serious, saying something about XX’s wife, to which XX backed down and said something like “It’s just a joke. I’d love to in my fantasies, but she’s company property, brother.” Company property??! I was sitting right there! I tensed up but tried to pretend I was so absorbed in the computer training as XX left and male Y went back to massaging me, but this time more boldly. He got down my lower back and upper buttock then went down the arms to my thighs, stopping me from doing any work as he blatantly brushed his forearms and hands against my chest. I felt so weak and almost paralyzed by the time I forced myself to stand up to go use the restroom, stopping it. I could have just done that at the beginning but did not. Later hat same day, XX had me go to lunch with him and have a beer at a bar and grill with a pool table. I was 20 but they did not ask for my ID because I was with XX. I hardly ever played pool and while we waited for our food he “showed” me how to play. He made fun of the cliché on movies and television where a man has a woman bend over the pool table to shoot just so he can push his crotch against her backside in a suggestive manger and lean over her with his arms on each side of her to show her how to slide the stick. But while he joked about it he actually did those things to me! That was a good day for my two main molesters and an awful day for me. XX hugged me as we stood up giggling and apparently his hands now had a license to molest my body whenever he wanted. I got numb to it in some ways, but emotionally more on edge. My butt was grabbed or spanked playfully in the department, even by male Y. A few other men were very flirtatious. My shoulders were rubbed, hugs on even minor greetings with XX and finally I was supposed to get used to little pecks on the lips too. I felt like I was in a constant state of mental anguish and defensiveness. My body could be attacked anytime. But I did not defend myself! I would say clearly to XX and some others that I wanted to be respected and considered one of the guys and have a job there when I graduated and they affirmed it. Both main abusers encouraged me, but still sexually harassed me. With my moronic blessing! The semester ended and I kept going in daily during summer break. It was my only lifeline to a possible job after I graduated in a year. I was so groomed that it was not a big leap at all when XX pressured me to give him head in his office. I refused with a smile and head shake and he came back with some rationalization about how I owed him and he really needed it just then. He would not take no for an answer. The first time I lowered myself to kneeling before his desk and took him in my mouth my hands were shaking and I teared up and had to sniffle snot back up. I was the one who was embarrassed! It was like an out of body experience and my mouth dried up to where I had to ask him to drink some of his energy drink. Internally there was a huge change immediately. I was gutted of all pride and self-worth. I was like a zombie. Hardly eating. Lots of coffee. Showing up and doing the reports that had become my responsibility and mechanically giving XX his daily BJ in the afternoon in his small stale office with a small window. I started to have migraines during that summer. I drove home for 4th of July and got so inebriated I ended up sleeping with my much older sister’s ex-husband in the back of his truck. That was a terrible wake up call. I knew I couldn’t pretend much longer without a breakdown so I put my two week in at the rental car place where I was working for free. To secure my future I made sure to keep it all friendly and “you know I’ll be back working here next year”. The idea of all the time and humiliation I had put in being lost to nothing was a major fear. I put myself through two last weeks of it. I had quickie sex with XX twice on and over his desk. I gave into extreme pressure and gave male Y a BJ too when he explicitly made it about a letter of recommendation. He knew about me doing it for XX. He did not even have his own office and we had to use the stairwell. During my final year of school I became aware that I was too traumatized to ever go back there anyway. The extent to which I had been used and abused became obvious to me, where before it had not. As if I had been living in a denial haze. It was a painful time. I was a bit reckless. I got a C in the high level economics elective I took. I said yes to several dates to avoid being alone and either slept with them or freaked out in anger at them. Seeing that I needed the car rental faux-internship on my resume I did email both abusers for letters of recommendation and got a good one from Male Y, but a very impersonal, generic one from XX. I was so dejected and angry. Finally, I told my sister, the one who confronted me about her ex-husband. I TOLD HER EVERYTHING AND THAT WAS MY FIRST STEP TO RECOVERY. To letting out the pain, screaming at myself in the mirror, punching the heavy bag at a boxing gym I joined, and to seeing my first psychologist and psychiatrist. The therapy helped more than the Celexa and antipsych. The support group helped even more. I met two friends for life who have my back in times of sorrow. I have to repeat that it is not my fault that I was abused, even though it kind of was. Don’t let it happen to you! They will take as much as they can from you. Plan your boundaries now and be assertive! Report harassment immediately. Doing so you are being a hero and protecting other women and yourself. If you have already been abused, GET OUT of the situation and talk to someone about it ASAP. There is nothing to be gained by letting the abuse continue! Talking to someone makes it real and lets you start the process of hating less and starting on the path to learning to love yourself again. You deserve real love.

Last year I was gang raped. I have an ear ringing called tinnitus that has not stopped since. I have nightmares. I flew with my mom to a wedding overseas. I was excited. She would be busy with her friends and cousin and I would get to spend time with my awesome second cousin who is two years older than me. After the rehearsal dinner we went out. It was fun because I was not legally able to drink there even though the age was lower than in my province, but they did not check ID’s. I did not drink much because it was not my thing and I had a boyfriend but I was able to go to some bars then a club attached to a hotel. So much fun up to when we met two soldiers in uniform who were cute and separated us from her friends because of our looks. My cousin is stunning beautiful. They had a private room at the club and several soldiers were there and two prostitutes also. Those prostitutes definitely hated us being there. I wanted to get out anyway and the cute ones that invited us acted like they understood and took us out of there. We stupidly let them take us to their hotel room where they totally dropped the cute romantic act and made us strip our clothes to music. They showed us a gun they had in a drawer. I was terrified. They made us lay on our stomachs bent over the bed side by side and had sex with us that way. They switched like we were interchangeable before finishing in us with no protection. We held hands. I was crying while my cousin was trying to be strong and cheer me up. We weren’t allowed to leave and our clothes were hidden. Before took our phones we had to text that we were staying at my cousin’s friend’s house. Then they called two other soldiers, one of them a huge tall dark guy with body builder muscles. He was the worst to me. They made us dance and then we had to use our mouths on the cute ones that had lured us there while the other two had sex with us. I vomited and my cousin cleaned it up but then it started again. They had cocaine and made us sniff it off their parts and sniffed it off us. Another one came and I think it was just those five during the night but they kept raping us and making us do things even when we would pass out. I would like to have been more unconscious but cocaine makes you so awake. I want to remember less and think about it all less. We showered many times. The big dark one peed on me and in my mouth the shower. He did it more than once like I was his toilet. The other men even had to tell him to chill out when he was making me scream liking his fingers and pushing them in my arse, but not when he made me crawl around like a dog using my hair as a leash. I remember one of them calling their friends to tell them to turn all their t.v.’s way up to hide the noise in our room. They watched sports news on the t.v. They had me and my cousin kiss each other and stuff. I could not act like it was a fun party like my cousin did sometimes and encouraged me to do. She tried to take some of their attention away from me over and over. I love her for it but they did not leave me alone. My chest is something they were obsessed with. They did not care that I was obviously distressed and freaking out or that in my country I was three years below the age of consent. There I was the minimum. We woke up in the morning on one the beds together with only the two soldiers sleeping on the floor. The black one was gone! They had sex with us again and another man who was much older and who they called SIR came in and had sex with both us but mostly me. They cheered him on and my head was pounding and I was crying and it seemed to last forever. Finally we got our clothes back but they took us for brunch wearing their normal clothes. They showed me pictures on their phones that made it look like I was having fun and warned us how bad it would be if we said anything different than we had a nice party. A nice party in hell! Before that I’d had sex with only my 1 boyfriend ever. One night of hell and now my number was seven!! We had to start getting ready for the wedding right away and I was exhausted. My cousin hid me and I took a nap in my dress, hair and makeup until the last minute. I cried in the ceremony but not for the wedding. I was so sore in my vagina, muscles, and brain that I got so drunk at the reception I barely remember any of it. Just part of being on the plane home. I told my mom the truth when I got back and she got all crazy, so did my dad, and they tried to call over there and the hotel and such but there was nothing the police would do. I saw my dad cry for the first time as I told the whole story. My boyfriend could not handle it and dumped me. I go to group and do therapy. I take a pill everyday and now benzo’s for break through anxiety. I try to hide my large chest under baggy clothes where before I used it for attention. STUPID! My cousin does not seem to have the trauma I do or the nightmares. In her country they are done with secondary school up to two years before us and are more treated like adults sooner. I said mean things to her once because of it. She forgave me but we talk much less since I asked if she has gang bangs all the time. I felt terrible because she even let them have anal sex with her to lure them away from me. I could tell it hurt her so much but at the time was just thinking about my own survival. My childhood is OVER but I do not feel like an adult. Her advice is -Don’t let it get you so down-. Like I have a choice in this!! She went to a therapist ONCE because her mom made the appointment and does not plan to go back. Her life did not really change!! She works reception at a tech company and models on the side and still goes to parties and clubs and dates. How??? It is unbelievable how attitudes toward something like this can be so different in different countries. I am a victim now and I usually feel like it. Definitely damaged. Everybody at my school knows why. I am THAT girl. My new more mature boyfriend is understanding but I feel like a sad little burden to him. I am hypersexual sometimes now and can’t help it. It is a coping mechanism that happens to some victims of sexual assault. I did not ask for it. I worry my boyfriend can’t trust me because of it. I had an older guy friend who’s been my neighbor for years take advantage of me after I told him the story of what happened at his house. We had sex and then he felt guilty for being turned on by my rape story. He admitted it and asked me to forgive him. The sex helped me calm the ear ringing for just short time periods so I did it with him more than once a day for a bit until my dad started to suspect something and talked to him. Since then I don’t trust myself. I want to marry my boyfriend in large part just to protect myself and show him I love him and am loyal even though I am not sure I can be. I worry I cannot love like a normal person. I worry I push him away being too needy and wanting to marry him so soon. I need him more than he needs me. Is that the way it will always be in relationships for rape victims??? I work hard at school not to ruin my future. It is so hard to focus. My ears ring constantly. Thank you for listening.

I was a victim of child sexual abuse when I was 7 years old and my cousin's stepbrother was 9 or 10. He abused me for two years. I told my mother what happened, and his parents punished him. Most of my family didn't believe me. In a conversation with my mother, she told me I had probably made up the whole abuse and that I was a liar, and I cried a lot that day. My grandmother is proud of him because he's a doctor in Germany and has a good life, while I'm trapped. I can't stand being touched and I can't get over it, even though I've been to therapy. Yesterday I saw his Instagram and felt bad because he moved on and I didn't. He told me it was a secret and I trusted him (the three of us were alone because my uncle and his wife -who is the mother of my abuser- are doctors so they were always in the hospital). They would leave the food ready for us and he (A) would put it in the microwave. A pulled my pants down a little or lift my skirt (if i was wearing one). When A was on top of me he was kissing me- it was overwhelming and i couldn't focus on anything else but his breath and voice, he was grabbing his crotch, but I didn't understand what he was doing. We were playing normal with his little sister and then A exclude her from the game to be alone with me so A put her in front of the television so she wouldn't focus on us and was distracted. Then A guided me to the room, he close the door to the room he shared with his sister (my cousin's bed was near the door and his wasn't), so he would make me lie down on the floor next to his bed so no one could see us. At first, I would get on top of him, but then he said I was too heavy to be in that position (I guess it wasn't comfortable for him to abuse me). That led to an eating disorder that I still have; I even developed anemia last year. I remember once I ran to the bathroom because something didn't feel right, but he started banging on the door but then I realized there was nothing I could do, I mean where would I go? My uncles locked us out. I remember once, A didn't close the door properly because his sister came in, and he straightened his clothes and pushed me under his bed, but his sister saw me and asked me what I was doing there, and I stayed there for a long time. And her sister got under the bed to keep me company; she was saying something to me, but I couldn't hear her, or maybe I wasn't paying attention. I think I'm broken, because his kisses and his voice in my ear were too much, and I never noticed if he ejaculated or if something else happened that I overlooked or never noticed because I never went to a doctor, my mom never reported him. And we couldn't count on my dad because he abandoned us and went off with the neighbor and treated her daughter as his own while the abuse was happening. That's why I lived in their house during that time; that's why the abuse continued because I was in the provinces and my mother traveled to the capital because of a false accusation my father made against her. A year later, my mother's half-brother baptized me with my abuser's mother, and I never said anything. I just smiled in the photos as if nothing was wrong while I hugged A. Now I´m 22 and I still feel sick and dirty.

I was about 8 years old when I was getting molested by my older brother. He's about 4-5 years older than me. I'm an adult now and finished college. My brain had repressed the memories of it for years and I didn't really remember it well until I was in therapy while at university for stress and depression. I think talking about my upbringing in therapy and my relationship with my parents finally made the memories surface. I always knew something bad was going on, I just didn't understand it. I remember multiple instances. He'd have me lay face down on my bed and pull my pants down to "massage" me. I think he only ever groped on my ass cheeks, but I can't remember. He did that multiple times. He came into my room once and made me get naked and he got behind me and laid on the floor behind my bed, out of view if the door opened, and he told me to not look and just sit back. I felt his penis and began to freak out, so he stopped. I think he was trying to penetrate me. I don't think he ever actually did. The last major time I can remember, I went into his room because I liked watching him play video games. He made me get naked again and lay in bed next to him naked. I felt him rubbing his penis on me. My mom opened the door and saw we were naked and began yelling. I was so scared anytime my mom yelled at me. I got out of bed quickly and got dressed. I was shaking so bad it was difficult. I ran out of his room to my room down the hall as she continued to yell at him. I thought I was in trouble too, even though I never understood what was going on. I just felt weird and gross after. She never came to check on me. Not that I remember at least. We didn't talk about it, she didn't take me to get help, there was nothing. All these years later, my mom called one night and I confronted her about it. I have no contact with my brother now and she'd always ask if I talked to him or talked to dad (they're divorced). I finally told her what I remembered. She said everything I expected her to say. She said she was sorry, that she thought it was only once and didn't want to imagine it happened multiple times. She said she failed as a mother and she thought at the time that she had handled it after threatening my brother to never do it again. No report, no doctor visit, no therapy, no help for me. I don't think she ever even told my dad. Just that she's sorry and should have done more. She said everything I already assumed she would and had played out in my head a hundred times before I ever asked her about it. None of it made me feel better to hear. I know the type of person she is already. Emotionally stunted, self-centered, victim complex. She hadn't changed much at all since then. She got upset and cried and eventually we both hung up. For my brother, I just finally stopped talking to him. I blocked him and I don't go to my dad's in case he's there again. I think the last time I saw him was almost a year ago. We didn't talk anymore anyway. I'd try before I remembered what happened. I think he remembers too and can't face it either, so we were never close after we grew up. I'm still processing how it all affected me. I honestly hate my mother more than him sometimes since she was the adult and did nothing. I'm not sure what else to say.

I was with my ex and I had just started some new tablets that made me sleepy. I tell my ex that I’m going to sleep and he continues to play his video game. I wake in a daze around an hour later and he is raping me and enjoying it. I react by making noises out of fear and wait for him to finish up the act , I just froze in fear. Once it was over I was mad he never got consent but he told me that he thought I wanted it. It’s been nearly a year and I’m still not over it

My name is Name. I was born in a town called Location, the capital headquarters of District, located in the Northern part of Sierra Leone. My country was engaged in a brutal civil war (1991-2002), with all manner of atrocities committed against people and property. Sadly, I lost both parents during the war due to the lack of access to medical supplies at that time of the war. I was born into a very strict, loving, and religious family that practices the faith of Islam. We were financially poor, but rich in tradition, cultural value, respect, and a strong support network, whatever that means. My Father was a chief Imam and a farmer, and my mother was a housewife who supported my dad with the farming. I am one of the youngest of 26 children. My first name was given to me after dad was strictly told to name me either Name if I was a girl or Name 2 if I was a boy. He was cautioned that had this name followed instructions, I would have died. The second name was acquired through traditional belief that since my mum had lost seven children from minor illness or sudden death, if I were thrown into a dustbin after my mother gave birth to me, to appear that I was found for her to raise, then I would survive. The name for a dustbin in our native language is ‘Nyama’, meaning dirty. My experience of Africa at that time was a place where the voices of women and girls were often marginalised. That said, even at that young age, I always believed that everyone’s voice was equally important and should be considered and respected. This was fundamental to how we felt valued and appreciated in society, enabling us to give our very best. Yet, my first trauma happened at the age of 12, when I was subjected to the horrendous experience of Female Genital Mutilation (FGM), which is the intentional removal of female genital organs for non-medical reasons. This occurred not once, but twice. One early December morning, I was tied down. An older woman from within my family circle wrapped her legs around me to stop me from escaping. I was placed on the cold gravel floor of the wash yard. The whole process was so quick that by the time you were on the floor, the cut was done. This barbarous act was performed with an unsterilised pen knife, on me and every other girl who had no say in the matter. I remember it vividly. There were eight of us, and I was the first to be circumcised. This experience left me with an infection, unbearable pain and a deep sense of disconnection from my body. I had no idea how to express what I was feeling, or who to talk to about it. After surviving the pain of the first incident, I was called by one of my aunties to bring some water to the washing yard again. There, I saw an image of the lady who inflicted the first trauma on me, waiting to have it done again. The reason for having to redo it was that she was spiritually possessed at the time of the first incident, which led to a poor job. Since I was the first one to be circumcised, I was the only one who had to have it done twice. I was pinned down again against my will, and I remember crying a lot and being extremely upset, as I knew based on my previous experience what was going to happen. I was extremely scared. I knew something had been taken away from me, something that would harm my life. However, I was unable to process, analyse, and determine the impact, as there were no spaces allocated for reflection and processing. It was difficult, not having a safe space to discuss the negative experience of FGM, when the occasion is seen as a positive and significant milestone as a woman. At the time, everyone around me, including some of the victims, was celebrating and appeared overwhelmed with joy at having been cut. They had little regard for the overall impact it had on me. This whole experience left me mute. While healing from the second mutilation, it felt like my tongue had also been removed, because it was seen as bad luck to talk negatively about it. Therefore, everybody kept quiet and moved on with their lives, even for those who were severely affected. The next time I had the opportunity and platform to safely talk about my FGM experience was 25 years later. In 1991, when the Sierra Leone civil war began, my life was again flipped upside down. As a child, the reports of political unrest sounded like something occurring in a world far away from us. It sounded like something for the politician, not us farmers, to be worried about. What felt like a story became real life when rebels attacked my hometown in 1994. They left a devastating legacy on our close-knit community. There was a high death count and destruction of properties, including historical landmarks. We called it ‘the first attack that some of us survived’, and soon enough, death in every form, destruction and the sounds of guns became familiar. At this point, the war had extended from the Southern region of Sierra Leone (where it initially started) to the Northern region, with frequent attacks on the towns and villages in my district. The government seemed to have no control in resolving the situation, and instead, the violence was escalating like a wildfire. Children should not have to experience this level of carnage and destruction. No one should. But there I was, a child in all of that chaos, with no protection from family or the state. Having experienced frequent attacks in my hometown (Location), I decided to travel to Makeni (the headquarters of the Northern region), where they had military barracks. I travelled with my little nephew as we were the only family members still together at this stage as some of our family members were dead and some were displaced. The reason for going was the potential hope of having protection from the military, despite the risk involved. Although I was only 13 years old at the time,I knew there were no other options available. I found myself as a child living in constant fear of being tortured or dead within the next hour or so. I had no idea when my time would come. That feeling of knowing death could be just around the corner is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. The second trauma (which I thought was the first trauma due to the severity of the impact) occurred when I was 14 years old. The rebels attacked Makeni, and I was hospitalised for Malaria during the second week of December in 1998. Due to the rumours and panic of the rebels’ intention, I was discharged from the hospital to my brother (who was living in Makeni at that time) and nephew so that we could escape together in case of an attack. Before I came home, my nephew had already escaped with some neighbours for safety, and my brother was searching for me. We finally found each other, but it was too late to run away as the rebels were already in the town. The Christmas period of 1998 was like no other I had ever experienced. I was captured by the rebels, who found me hiding inside a toilet seat. I was hit, kicked and dragged to the neighbouring house where the first set of raping took place. I remember that the first man to rape was called Perpetrator Name (he was part of a group of five men). I was raped with a gun in my mouth in case I decided to shout for help. At the start of this brutal gang rape, I prayed for the sky to send me an angel to disappear with me. Since that wasn’t possible, and I did not want to feel any pain, I became numb, leaving only my physical appearance to deal with the minor pain. Once captured, one of the terrible acts the army does is train young children to become child soldiers. They know full well that hunger can lead to death, and with no family or future prospects, there’s no choice. My experience of being a child soldier led me to experience multiple rapes and other horrendous traumas on two separate occasions. It was hard to believe that before the abuse at the hands of adults, I was a happy, bubbly, and intelligent girl. After the FGM and rapes, I often felt very sad, worthless, lonely, and traumatised. The lack of a safe space or trusted individuals to express my feelings and thoughts led me to become even more consumed by the effects of trauma to the point where it became the norm for me. I am sure that millions of other survivors share the same sentiment. The day after these gruesome traumas was like the morning after the night that no one wanted to talk about. As a teenager, I found myself in a position where I had to deal with everything that had happened, with no family member or other adult to turn to for support. No professional or support network to discuss my thoughts with. Living in an environment where survivors of rape are at fault. Many incorrectly assume that the awful rape was partly the fault of the survivor because of how she was dressed or because she was somewhere she shouldn’t have been. I was 14 at the time I was first raped. I didn’t dress inappropriately, and as for being somewhere inappropriate, I was on the run from rebels, fleeing as they torched everything in their path to the ground. Yet, like so many others before me, I have been stigmatised for the actions of others, in this case, the sexual violence of men. Today, I am still here. I now live in London, having been granted asylum. I arrived in the UK with so much baggage, problems, trauma, language barrier, cultural barrier, and the fear of integration and the worries of exclusion. Despite my past in Sierra Leone, which I will never forget, I have built a new life. I am a wife, a mother, a sister, a friend, and a nurse, but above all, I am a survivor who set up her own charity to help other women. Women like you. Women like us. And from the bottom of my heart, I wish nothing but love and strength for you, wherever you are on your journey.

As an only child, I had no one to look up to really as a kid. But I always looked up to my Dad. Even though he was never really around due to work (although Mam worked more than he did and still found lots of time to spend with me), I still idolised him. He was my hero. He would always say 'Dads know everything - remember that', so lying to my dad (even little white lies) were pointless. Though when I hit 13 I began to realise he actually DID know everything. He knew what myself and my friends would talk about, he would know exactly where I was and who I was with without even needing to ask me, and I would always wonder why. In reality he had my phone tracked and could read all my messages. Now that I have been through the court system and he has been imprisoned for the abuse he inflicted upon me, I can confirm that he was in fact grooming me from the age of 13. About a month after my 18th Birthday, began the horrific 7.5 year abuse that I suffered. My Dad, masked for the first 2 years as a stranger, blackmailed me into performing sexual acts with strange men in our home - the one place I should've felt safe. When I finally realised it was him, I couldn't tell you how it then turned into just open ended abuse and rape from him. He would advertise us as a couple on hook up sites and in order to avoid physical beatings I would go along with it. I feared for my life so much that endless rapes and sexual assaults were easier - imagine that being the easiest choice - until you're in it, you just don't know how you'll react. I stopped going out, I gave up my hobbies, whilst in college I gave up my part time job - he controlled every single part of my life. And if I even let my "everything is rosey' mask slip even for a second, especially in front of my Mam, well it just doesn't bear thinking about. Fortunately for me, once Mam did find out, he was gone out of my life within 30 mins. Unfortunately, he went on to groom and abuse others after that. He was convicted, and is currently serving his prison sentence - but the fear of him stilll remains.

I had a tough year, I had lost a parent, I had been cheated on, I had to end a very good friendship. That summer I was going to have a good time, and enjoy being young. After work one day, I sprung up the idea to go on a night out with my cousin who had a similar year to mine. We went out for drinks, the two of us going through the same motions of a night out, batting off creeps at the bar, dancing, having a good time. We met with one of her old school friends and his friend, and I took a liking to the friend. We all piled up in a taxi and went back to their place. We all had a couple more drinks, and my cousin and her school friend went upstairs, leaving me with the other friend. One thing lead to another and we went upstairs. Through the motions there were things that didn't feel right, and I tried to tell him to stop, that I was uncomfortable, that I didn't want to do that, but he didn't listen, he just kept going. When finally, it was over and I just felt frozen in time, more concerned for my cousin in the next room, and not about myself, being in a scary position. My phone had died and nobody had a charger for it, so I had to beg the guy who had just assaulted me to order a taxi, because I didn't know what part of town I was in at the time, but all I knew was that I had to get home, and fast. All I remember was my cousin getting annoyed at me for leaving, but I didn't care, I wanted to get home, I wanted to be safe. I remember the taxi driver, it was a woman who told me about her son living in locationand how humid it was that time of year. It mightn't have been much, but it was comforting in that moment. I remember the streetlights reflecting on the rows of houses in that suburb, which still haunt me any time I pass through that area, sending a shiver down my spine. She pulled up to my house, the sun was starting to come up, my dad left the porch light on. I undressed and took a shower. Still not processing what had happened, I wrote in my journal and tried to pass it off as a silly dating fail, but knowing at the back of my mind it wasn't okay. I couldn't sleep so I read a book and the following day, took my younger sibling out into town to get school supplies for the new year. Months passed, and I tried to tell a friend about what happened to me, but all they could say to me was: "Well, what do you expect, that's what happens when you hook up with random people" and I retreated into myself. After that point, I went a long time without telling people what happened until I was visiting another friend in a different city and I decided to go on a date with someone I matched with on an app. As I was about to board the metro to get to the date, I froze up, I panicked, I started to cry. My friend immediately asked what happened, if I was okay, and was there anything she could do to help. I couldn't say it was nothing, because it wasn't nothing. It was something that shook me to my core, made me think I was in the wrong for enjoying my sexuality. I didn't go on the date, but what I did do was tell my friend what had happened, and instead of being met with judgement, I was met with kindness, compassion, and love. We left the train station, picked up bits for a self-care night, and I was allowed to be myself in a space where I was believed and listened to. It took me a good while to feel comfortable in myself, how I looked, how I expressed myself, how I even was in relationships. If it weren't for the friend who made sure I was okay and I was safe, I mightn't be sharing my story right now. There are still times when I pass through that same neighborhood, hear that person's name, or even go pass the bar we met at, and a cold wave passes through me, but I'm proud of the work I have put in to not let it ruin my day, get me down, or define me.

I never associated my assaults as sexual assaults. I always just saw it as a thing that happened me that was upsetting until recently. I was groped, forced into having sex and preforming oral sex on him. I remember one time he offered to drive me home. I lived over 40 mins from town so I thought i could save myself €60 in a taxi. Until I realised we were going in the opposite direction to my house. He drove me to secluded area. I knew it wasn't right I said no said I was due my period I tried everything I could to deter him. It didn't work. I can't drive that road without a feeling of dread. I do feel part to blame and I know that's wrong. I hate how it makes me feel. When I hear stories in the news I can't help but think my story isn't as bad as theirs or that maybe mine wasn't rape or a sexual assault. I hate myself for thinking it.

I recently broke up with my girlfriend who’s been my best friend for around 11 years and we still have sleepovers frequently and the other day I was half asleep and she kept telling me I was too tired and I needed to go to sleep soon and when I gave in and I was falling asleep she asked me for a kiss and in my sleepy state I said yes forgetting we had broken up and so we kisses not a peck it was quite a long kiss no tounge..? I don’t know how to feel because I didn’t even remember it happened until the next afternoon and I told her it made me uncomfy and she said sorry I just needed something and “I didn’t think u were tired enough to not give consent”?? I don’t know does this count as a form of sa? It felt like it..?

In early summer 2022, I was raped by Name - someone I had known and was friends with for a decade. He was part of my group of girl friends, and was so proud to be the "guy who made it in the group chat" and always portrayed himself to be "one of the girls" as best he could. In reality, he was a loser when we took him in as a friend in high school - he so badly wanted to be friends with the "cool kids," but they rejected him so he settled for our friendship (that was too good for him). Over the years, he referred to us a "dumb bitches" and constantly made fun of everyone, proving his insecurity and emotional instability. About 4 years ago, we ended up in a situation where we lived in the same home. This wasn't necessarily my choice, but we lived with several other people and the homeowner begrudgingly let him stay for a while out of perceived obligation. During that time, he forced a sexual encounter on me which, looking back, I now realize was assault that I just didn't recognize as such until recently. I was almost blackout drunk and didn't want to have sex, but he forced himself on me and I went along with it because I didn't know what else to do. I tried to enter a sexual/romantic relationship with him in the weeks following, which didn't work because my body subconsciously rejected him and there was something I didn't trust, but the actual reason was hard for me to pinpoint. I didn't understand until recently, but that was all a trauma response. I was so hard on myself for a long time, because I felt guilty for "hurting" him by rejecting him, and I thought that I handled the situation poorly. It just turned out I didn't know how to deal with that situation; I moved states after a few months, and then we fell out of touch, but I was under the impression we were still friends, although we weren't in constant contact. He started dating a young woman early pandemic, but she broke up with him after about a year and a half of dating. Soon after the breakup, he had a get together with many of our friends for his 25th birthday, in May 2022. Because I hadn't seen him in a long time, I ended up going back to his apartment to hang out with him for longer, as well as another friend who was spending the night, and his mother, who he lives with. On this night, our friend and his mother fell asleep, and he began sexually assaulting me. He shoved his hand so hard in my pants, twice, that I needed to use muscle to pull his arm off of me. When I stood up to leave the room and get away from him, he followed me and raped me. I am a freeze/fawn type of trauma responder, but I did try using my voice to get him to stop. I even tried reminding him that there were other people just 10 feet away, and that they would hear - he said, "so what?" and "I don't care." The next morning, I realized that my genitals where bleeding and in pain, and remained that way for several days. The most damning part of all of this? He sexualized my physical trauma - it actually *turned him on,* and he had no problem with telling me so. It took me many months to stop being in denial about what happened - that someone I was friends with for years, someone who I trusted to keep me safe, violated my personhood in such a deeply degrading way. I strongly believe his mother heard me asking him to stop, as she talked to me after this night happened. She said "he told her everything," that "she woke up to pee during the night and heard us 'banging in the bathroom,'" and she point blank asked me if her own child had raped me. What kind of a mother asks that unless she was a reason to do so, and was either told something or heard something? I didn't connect the dots of that night until recently, but I can say I certainly unconsciously reacted in a trauma response sort of way. I desperately wanted to enter a relationship with him after that night, something I had never truthfully wanted, in a attempt to gain back the control he had taken from me. Because if I could try to form a relationship with him, and we ended up together, it would justify him raping me, right? Of course not, but that's how my brain tried to protect me. I started unraveling without even realizing it. I became hypersexual, putting myself in risky situations by inviting random people over to my home for sex, going over to random people's homes for sex, having unprotected sex. I started changing my appearance. My bulimia flared up. I started smoking again. I lightly confronted him over text last month after I came to terms with what he did to me, and told him that we needed to talk because he seriously violated my boundaries. He responded to say we could "definitely" talk, but I never responded. I need time before I can speak to him. When I do, I want to speak to him in person, not on a phone call, like he wanted. I want to look him right in his dead-eyed face to tell him I know exactly what he did, and I know exactly who he is - he raped me, and he is a rapist. It won't give me justice, it won't make him sorry for what he's done, and I'm at peace with that. I can only hope it will instill a fear in him by making him recognize that I DO have a power he can never take from me as long as I'm alive - my voice. I can tell my story, share it with anyone who I choose to, and there's nothing he can do to stop that. He'd have to kill me first. I haven't told anyone other than my sister/brother in law, one friend, and my therapist about what happened that night, but when I get stronger through therapy and become less scared, I will meet him face-to-face to call him out for what he is. Predator. Abuser. Rapist. I will share my story with more people. Nameis a rapist. I highly doubt he will ever see this post, but in the in the <1% chance you are reading this, Name Initials., I want you to remember that while you sit there and call yourself a "feminist king," YOU are the person articles are referring to when they talk about perpetrators of violence against women. YOU are the person who made your decisions that night, not alcohol. (Too drunk to realize what you were doing, but not too drunk to have sex with my body? Nice try. Funny how I get super drunk with my other friends, and somehow none of them have managed to rape me.) YOU are the one who is responsible for your actions. There was no miscommunication. There was no room for misunderstanding. I was clear with what I was saying, you disregarded and ignored me, and that is on YOU. If you have a conscience, I hope this haunts you for the rest of your time on this earth.

Hi, thanks for letting me share my story. To understand it, I have to start from the very beginning: My parents got divorced when I was 7 years old, and my mother took care of me and my two siblings. My mum remarried within a few months of the divorce and my dad remarried after 4 years. But, I was never told what happened. It was never discussed. And I was afraid to discuss it with my Mum in case I would upset her or make her angry at me. But finally, when I was 11 years old, I finally asked her about the divorce. At first, she consoled me saying that she was sorry if the divorce ever hurt me or my feelings. But, as I continued to talk about it, she got angry and told me to stop "self-pitying". My Dad is a businessman, so even at childhood (back when my parents were married), he was always away for months at a time for meetings. But, I still loved him (obviously). Now, as for my stepdad, me and him were never close. But I still called him "Dad" - even though I didn't want to, that was just for my Mum's sake. He always used to say I was his "favourite" but I never understood why. When I was in 7th Grade, my Dad moved to a different country. When I was in 8th Grade (13 years old, nearly 14), me and my stepdad started getting closer. Eventually, he would start doing inappropriate things. He would touch my breasts and once, he put his hand inside of my trousers and rubbing between my legs. Before this incident, I thought that everything he was doing was "normal", as I never had a father figure to look up to. A few days later, I got the courage to tell my Mum. I went to her and told her and she looked so panicked and asked me if I was sure that this happened. She told me it was probably an accident, and maybe as he was giving me my goodnight hug, his hand accidentally went there. I realised at that moment, if I were to say something, my life would be ruined. So, I accepted that nothing happened and stayed silent. In the next 3 years, I pretended everything was normal. I pushed the sexual abuse to the back of my mind and pretended as if it never happened. Now, from my cultural background, it was weird and shameful for women to get remarried after a divorce, so my Mum never told anyone (other than immediate family) that she got remarried - even my Dad didn't know. My Dad also didn't tell my Mum or even us that he got remarried. He used to spend time with us every Sunday in parks before he moved away. The day I found out was when suddenly he brings this 1 year old boy and tells me he's my brother and introduces me to his wife. I was so shocked and so hurt, that I ran away back to my mother's house. My mother consoled me and said that I'm lucky to have another sibling. Now, when I was in 11th grade, we went back to our home country for my uncle's wedding. Before we went, my Mum said "we are planning to tell everyone about our wedding. Are you OK with that?" I pushed my feelings aside, and said it was OK. I just thought she would announce it. But, one night, we were all sitting down and she tells her friends about her plans for her wedding tomorrow. I had no idea she was getting married! I ran to the other room in tears. My Mum later came to the room and asked me why I was making such a big drama over nothing. I told her that I never knew about it, and she replied she didn't have to tell me anything. Eventually, I left it alone and the next day, I acted as if everything was fine. I took photos, I wore a nice dress, I chatted with my stepdad's family - did everything the "perfect daughter" would do. When my Dad found out my Mum was remarried, he broke off all contact with me. When we came back to the country we live in, it was my Mum's turn to host a party (we have this friend circle and every month we have a party at someone's house). Suddenly, they all came in with wedding decor and started surprising her. I was not aware this was happening so I just went into panic mode. I didn't say anything that whole night and tried to hold back my tears. After they left, my Mum and I had a discussion about the divorce again. She told me "Me and your father are separated, ACCEPT IT". I said "I do accept it, but all I'm saying is I wish you told me". And she replied "I didn't know they would do this much of a party, but don't you think it hurt me to see my eldest daughter not happy to see me married?" This is when I broke down and finally told her about the sexual abuse again. This time, my Mum got furious and asked me why I lied the first time. She also slapped me. She said since I lied the first time, I could be lying right now. Once again, I took back my statement thinking that I'd tell her after I had enough money to live by myself (because I was financially dependent on my Dad and Stepdad, as my Mum didn't work). But, later on that year, in the summer of 11th Grade, we went back to our home country and my baby cousin was born. As soon as I saw her, saw how innocent she was, I knew that I'd protect her at all costs. Then, my uncle was giving her to my stepdad to hold and I couldn't believe it. I also properly realised that my little sister, who was 11 at the time, was only 2 years away from when I was abused. I knew I had to tell, for their sake if not for mine. At that time, the two people I loved and I trusted more than anyone were my Mum and my aunt. I decided I would tell both of them. But, neither believed me. My Mum kept asking me questions saying that if I was telling the truth, then why didn't I say it earlier and she kept mocking me. My aunt said she didn't know who to believe, but she said my Mum already went through a difficult divorce so she can't go through that again. I pleaded to my Mum to divorce him but she said that wasn't even an option because she loved him. She then told me she got sexually abused herself by her tutor when she was 17. She said she knew the signs of sexual abuse and that I didn't have any of them. She also said that my Dad sexually abused her a few weeks before their wedding. Since my Grandfather died, my Mum had no one to rely on. She said that the reason she divorced my Dad was because he also used to physically abuse her. I was shocked to hear this and I started crying more. In the end, we all came back to the country we live in. I still lived with my stepdad and my mum, but me and my stepdad would ignore each other. He still spent his money on us like normal. My Dad stopped giving child support that year. Now, at the time of writing this (20th May 2023), I was looking for something on my Mum's phone (a document I wanted to send my friend) and I came across these messages of her and my stepdad telling my aunt that she was pregnant. In those messages, my Mum said she already told my Grandma and everyone is excited. I couldn't believe it, I started getting a panic attack. I confronted my Mum and asked if it was true. She said it was and asked what was my problem with it. I said "I don't want this baby". She said it was not my decision to make and that I shouldn't dictate her life. I asked that why did she have to get pregnant this year, why the year where everything in my life was going downhill. She told me to shut up and concentrate on my final exams. I told her that I can never tell her anything. She started mocking me and asking me what I couldn't tell her. I told her "this year has been so hard that sometimes I wish I could end it!" She started mocking me once again and said "Oh by living with your amazing father, is that it?" (My Mum still thinks I care about my Dad, but I couldn't care less about him). I said "no, ending my life" (at one point in the year, I thought it would be easier if I was just gone, then all the suffering would end, then I realised suicide is not the answer). She got up and stated hitting and slapping me. Then she started hyperventilating and screaming. She started screaming "Get out! Get out! I am NOT your mother! I don't want you! I don't love you!" repeatedly. I tried to go back and console her and she told me to just get lost and go to the other room. She told me that as soon as my exams were over, she wants to send me back to our home country to live with my Dad. I begged her to not do that and she told me that no amount of begging would make her change her mind. She said all love for me was finished in her heart. Later on that day, I tried talking to her again and she kept ignoring me. Then, she started crying and said "you said you hate living with me so much that you want to kill yourself, maybe if I send you to your Father, you'll get some sense". She didn't understand that it was my stepdad causing that, that it was her reluctance to believe me that was causing me to have these thoughts. She said "before I had a suspicion he did this, but now I know you are lying, you are just jealous!" I told her everything was true but she told me that she knows me better than anyone and that I was lying. In her words "In my 42 years, I have understood EVERYTHING but I have never managed to understand YOU. Why are you like this? Why must you make me miserable?" This happened yesterday, and now I keep getting panic attacks. The only people talking to me are my siblings. I feel so alone. My Mum refuses to acknowledge me. What I know for definite is that it was not my fault. It is never the victim's fault, we never asked to be abused. We are constantly told we are weak but my God, we are so so so strong. So proud of all of us for enduring this disgusting reality.

I grew up in a poverty stricken neighborhood in City called Community ,My mom was a single mother of 12 ,she had 10 boys and 2 girls.The first time I was sexually molested was at 7 years old by a teenage boy that lived across from us.I did not come foward because I was embarrased,instead I avoided him and his household at all cost.That experience gave me a stigma to stay away from men while alone.Throughout my teenage years I chased love just like any other girl and that's how I met my nightmare Name he groomed me and before I knew it I was on backpack selling my body for him to love me,sounds stupid but it happened .I was sonin love with him that he added on another girl and turned us against eachother with turned deadly ,we fought and she ended up shot in the leg ,she passed away from bleeding out from her femoral artery, I was arrested and charged with murder,while awaiting trial i was placed in admin segregation where an Officer Name began bringing me food to gain my trust then started violently raping me anally.Today I live with soo much trauma that I don't know where to begin to heal.I am always depressed and just as soon as I smile the memories from my past wipe that smile right off my face .I am miserable but I get up each day and try to live on.Here is my contact information Name Prison in State Number feel free to write me Telephone Number

I was 8 years old when the grooming started. I was on the swim team, and my coach would pull me from my lane to show me different stretches. This wasn't uncommon during practice, so when he suggested I come to his office after practice so he could give me some more tips I thought nothing of it. He told me he thought I could be an amazing swimmer, that I could really help my team out if I started taking my land workouts more seriously. He offered to help me improve with stretches he would show me, and I let him know I wanted to do whatever I could to be a better swimmer. I started to get pulled out of the water early every practice by him and brought to his office. I was shown actual stretches at first, but then I became uncomfortable with what was going on. He started to give me massages before and after stretching, his hands lingering on my breasts and thighs. Things progressed, and eventually he began to perform what he called a simulating message on me before each practice. I know now that what he was really doing was fingering me, and I had every right to feel as uncomfortable as I did. Still, I didn't say anything to anyone because I was worried he would stop showing me stretches or giving me specialized attention at practice, something I desperately wanted to become a better swimmer. I'll never forget the first time he raped me, though I don't remember all of the the details. It was the first practice back after a meet, and I had swam my event quite poorly. Half way through practice he called me out of the pool for a meeting in his office. Once there, he asked if I was really serious about improving or if this was all a joke to me. I was upset, and swore up and down that I wanted to improve and was taking everything we worked on seriously. He started to suggest we work on some stretching before saying nevermind, and I actually remember crying and begging him to show me what he was going to suggest we work on. He took me to the table, and the rest I remember in snapshots. Him taking off my suit. Him taking off his pants. His hands all over my body. The overwhelming pain when he penetrated me. There were 72 tiles on the ceiling in his office. Later in the locker room one of the older girls pulled me aside and asked if I knew I had gotten my period because I had bled through my suit. She gave me a pad and I brought my clothes into a stall to change. The abuse continued until I was 10, at which point I decided to quit the team, opting not to move to the next age group. I never told anyone what happened. I had been warned about stranger danger as a kid, about people you didn't know hurting you, never about when it's someone you know well. I pushed aside my feelings that everything was wrong, and convinced myself this was just a part of life. I became a very anxious child. Where I had once been outgoing in social situations I now hung back, preferring to be with people I already knew instead of meeting new people. I cried a lot, and at the most random of times or things. Looking at it now, I'm not sure how my parents didn't notice the major shift in who I was, but having just transferred schools I feel like they may have assumed I was just having trouble adjusting to my new environment. I only just shared this information with someone else at the beginning of the year. I'm 28 years old. I told two good friends of mine what had happened, and found myself apologizing for not having divulged the information to them when I had been a victim of partner abuse in college. Imagine that, here I was sharing this massive information, and I still felt the need to say I was sorry to make sure nobody would be mad. I estimate I have been raped more than 100 times in my life. I am working through trauma processing in therapy, and I have an amazing therapist who pushes me out of my comfort zone without ever going too far. I still feel many of the effects of my experiences, but I'm very slowly coming to terms with what happened to me, which in turn is helping me to feel like I'm starting to take back parts of my life I lost.

when I was 13, I got my first boyfriend. he was my first kiss. I have since found that I am a lesbian and it was extremely hard to break out of the heteronormative cycle I was in. my mom loved my first boyfriend, we had been in the same grade school class since we were 5 years old and she said that one day we would get married. I knew he had a crush on me the entire time and eventually, I grew curious. he kept asking me to kiss him and I was hesitant, but it got to the point where I just did it to make him stop. I guess he grew comfortable enough around me that he felt he could get away with anything around me. he would smack my bum a lot, which I thought was just playful so I did it back to him. he wanted more from me and groped my chest without asking. I felt so dirty when he did it. it felt like I had to grow up right in that moment. I pulled his hand away but I didn't stop kissing him, I felt like that was what he wanted so I gave it to him. I got so in my head about it that I distanced myself from him and severed our relationship. I tried to tell my mom but she dismissed my being upset with him being 'handsy'. she was so proud of our relationship that I think I was only doing it to make her happy. I still don’t understand what happened, and I'm 21 now. if a full-grown man did that to me it would be mortifying to others. but we were both kids and I haven't stopped thinking about it for years. is that sexual assault? I feel like it's my fault that I led him on like that. and that this isn't as big of a deal as I'm making it out to be. why do I feel this way? we were 13 and I still feel violated and ignored, it's been 7 years. why is this so hard to get over? I'm graduating college soon with a degree in criminal justice, I want to be a victim's advocate. maybe some other 13-year-old girl can tell her mom and she will know where to go to understand what happened to her. I want to be the person to help but I still don’t understand what happened to me. why am I like this?

I have never shared the dark secrets of my past. Something, not sure what, is compelling me to put them down in writing. At the age of 15, I started having unwanted sexual encounters. The first experience, many would find somewhat harmless. First you should know, I always preferred hanging out with boys growing up. I went to a friend’s house one weekend, and there were only guy friends there. They all went in a room, and I was left in the living room alone. They then shouted my name asking me to join them. When I entered the room, they were watching porn. I had never watched porn and felt very uncomfortable, almost afraid. I tried to quickly leave the room but was held down. They grabbed my face, trying to keep me from looking down. After much pleading, they let go and I left. My next unwanted sexual interaction was with my boyfriend. I was 15 at this time as well. I went over to his house with a trusted friend. The only thing I remember was him locking me in his bathroom and trying to force my pants down. I yelled to my friend, to help, but he didn’t do anything. I held on to the top of my pants tightly and stiffened my legs. I don’t remember why he eventually let me go, but I am so thankful that was the worst of it. I reference these stories because they influenced the way I began to see myself. I met my high school sweetheart when I was 16. I fell head over heels for him quickly. I lost my virginity to him, I felt loved and safe. I was quite religious at the time; I attended church often. My boyfriend went to another church and asked me to start going to youth group with him. I felt out of place there, and not well liked. I soon met a pastor, who was very musically gifted. He played shows outside of church that we would go to. I remember him giving me intense stares every time I saw him. He heard that I could sing, and asked if I would be interested in singing on some of his songs. I was extremely flattered and took him up on his offer. After getting in a car accident, I started feeling very ill. My mom and I didn’t know what was wrong. I eventually saw I kidney specialist and found I had staph infection growing in my body. It was slowly killing me. I had surgery, was in the hospital for a few days and then went home. I had a catheter in me until I was released from the hospital. I was in too much pain to go upstairs where my room was, and so I slept downstairs in our living room. I remember my mom leaving to pick up my post-surgery medicines; my boyfriend was with me. He got on top of me, started kissing me and kept asking to have sex. I repeatedly told him no, that I was in pain. He kept asking, and against my will pulled down my underwear and put himself inside me. I remember the pain, anger, but at the same time telling myself, he’s your bf, it’s ok for him to do this. During this time, the pastor from my boyfriend’s church started calling me, daily. He would ask all kinds of questions, getting to know me well. I felt cared for, loving the attention I was receiving. It didn’t take long for him to tell me he had romantic feelings for me. I suppose at this point my defenses were down, my self-worth was low, and I was just excited that someone showed interest in me. I remember my heart sinking into my stomach and feeling so nauseated the first time he kissed me. He was in his 30s and I was 16, although he lied about his age, telling me he was in his mid-20s. I had no guidance from my parents. My dad was never around and my mom I would later find out, was dealing with serious mental health issues. He had a girlfriend, who just so happened to be the head pastor’s daughter. It felt so strange that he would be praying over me at church, and then would invite me over afterward and try to have sex. Half the time, he acted like I didn’t exist when he would see me at church; I was so confused. I knew this was not okay, but also loved that someone cared about me and wanted to be with me. I remember a specific time, I was at his house and his girlfriend showed up. She was knocking on the door loud and relentlessly. I asked him why he wouldn’t just answer, because being young and naïve, I didn’t realize how wrong and inappropriate it was that I was there. He ended up leaving through his back door, going through the underground garage, and pretended he was leaving. He told me to hide in the bathroom during all of this. I remember sitting on the bathroom floor with the light off for a long time. It was over an hour, and he hadn’t come back. I got up the courage, walked out the front door and drove away. I was still with my boyfriend at this time but didn’t view him the same after what he had done. I even told my parents what had happened after I had surgery, and all they said was, “that’s not cool”. I was allowed, even encouraged, to keep dating him. My mom had become very close to him. I accepted these men to stay in my life because I thought it was what I deserved; it seemed normal. This treatment represented my worth. After several years I came to the realization that I was miserable and ended contact with the pastor. He begged me to stay in his life, but I said no. I was no longer with my high school boyfriend but tried to remain friends. I began having panic attacks and became very depressed. No one knew the situations I had been in. I was sitting with my mom in her car one afternoon and had a complete breakdown. I told her everything that had transpired; she was undoubtably very upset. She debated going to the police but concluded that going back to the church and telling the head pastor was the best option. I brought evidence with me to show proof of the inappropriate relationship. I remember seeing the pastor’s anger, anger at me. Remember, his daughter was the girlfriend of the pastor who had abused me. He told me he would deal with the situation and stated, that I was not welcomed at his church anymore. He said that there were probably many things I did that led to this happening. I didn’t know it was possible to feel more broken than I already did, but after this, I was shattered into unrecognizable pieces. Within a few years of all this, my mental health was deteriorating, and I ended up being put on a psychiatric hold. I often had out of body experiences, looking at my life like a sad, predictable movie. I struggled with my mental health for years, not realizing where my issues stemmed from. I spent my early 20s drinking excessively, having sex with people I didn’t care about or hardly new. I look back at these years and don’t know who that person is. I had no self-respect and had a major anger issue. I would fight anyone who said something I thought was insulting. Even giving me the wrong look could send me into a rage. I didn’t care if it was a guy, girl, friend, or a stranger. Even though I have been with the same partner for 15 years and have been married almost 10, I still fight the demons from my past. It was not until a few years ago, I shared some of my past with my husband. Being told and looked at as if I brought the sexual abuse on myself has kept me silent. If other people think it, it must be true. I have had to learn what sexually healthy relationships are in my 30s because of not healing the trauma of my past. The truth that I have learned is, none of it was my fault. A grown man coercing a teenage girl into a sexual relationship is not my fault. Having someone force themselves onto me after saying no is not my fault. I am sad for the young women I was who thought she didn’t deserve better. I am sad that I had no parental figure looking out for me, keeping me safe. I have spent enough years mourning my past life. My journey to becoming a psychologist is helping me dissect my past in a constructive way. I can enter this field with the experience that many seeking help will relate to. I plan on teaching coping skills that I wasn’t taught until much later and that eventually saved me. I want to provide the safety and guidance that I so desperately needed growing up. Struggling with mental health does not define who we are. If taking medication will help you, take it. If talking to a friend or loved one will help you, talk to them. If you need crisis intervention, let them intervene. t’s never too late to change your perspective on life. Know your worth and never settle for less. Thank you for listening to my story.

Hello, I'm a young female I'm here to share my story of surviving domestic abuse and emotional abuse including rape, I also had a rough childhood being abroad when I was young and I was physically bullied by young boys, I still remember being physically kicked in the stomach and having my hair grabbed and pulled into lockers, large garbage bins and brick walls, knowing that no one will help me or support me while this is happening, what hurt more is your mother is seeing this happening, I am extremely quiet and reserved person and this was the start to my horrible life, I came back to UK and I was teased and picked on theough out the whole of my life, and back then I just turned 20 years and got my first boyfriend I've never had a boyfriend before so I didn't know the signs of a good relationship and a bad relationship, after a couple month my boyfriend turned into this sweet caring person into this controlling, Manipulative and emotionally abusing me, he refused me seeing any of my friends, at any cost I am a huge gamer fan and if I played games with my friends he would call me Constantly to make sure that all my focus is on him, I was slowly losing contact with my friends, to the point he was the only person I was allowed to talk, and then he forced me and pressured me to getting a implant to stop pregnancy, I was didn't want the implant or to have sex with him I was completely petrified of him but he started shouting and getting physically close if I didn't do it so out of fear I went to get the implant in, I still didn't want to have sex with him, fastward to my 21st birthday it was the big day I was 21, and my boyfriend forced me to come to his house so we can spend sometime with him and he asked me if the implant was in effect amd I told him yes which now after years of looking back I regret saying yes to him, he pushed me down the bed and forcing kissing me and touching me I was pushing him to get off but he grabbed my throat so I couldn't scream or say anything, he used his weight against mine and forcing my clothes to come off he then pinned me down so I can't fight back and particularly raped me on my birthday and the amount of pain I was in after him forcing himself on me and that I pretty much in so much pain and sore from the experience I was Traumatised of someone who I trusted who I would die for would do such a thing, after the experience I was bleeding non stopped of the sexual assault, I couldn't say anything of this with my family because of the Generation difference, the abuse Continued after that, I remember him holding my hand to the point it went from him squeezing my hand so hard and refunsed me talking to anyone not even to my best friend at the time, and he would hit when no-one was around, fastward to Valentine's day me and boyfriend at the time we went out to celebrate I was already scared of him but I must comply to his demands we were going into the restaurant and forbid me to eat and he was the only one to eat food and get me to paid for the food he ate as well, I refused to pay for the food and without any warning he so hard in the face which knocked me to floor with my eyes watering I paid for the food, to my horror that no-one would step in and protect me just sat there staring at me for this experience, we both left and I went home and I had to remind that nothing happened and even hiding my face from the trauma of being hit, Continued to remain normal with my family, the next day we both spend all evening 5 hours on a voice call but in Silence no one would say a thing in the call until one evening when I was wanted to be alone and have a quiet evening so I ended the call but to my surprise my boyfriend called me right back swearing and yelling and even shouting at me for ending the call without his permission, as this maybe me even more petrified of him and was scared of him no matter what mood he was in, and one day me and him were hanging out with his place and I bought him some food and he had a go at me for getting him the wrong food and turned his back to me until I came back with the food he wanted, so I did returned while a special request with the shop owner that is what he wanted and he came back with the item I wanted for him and I paid and walked out and I got back and showed and he grabbed the item from me not even thanking me for going through that trouble and and I was on edge with him the the rest of the time I was there, he turned around and started kissing me and I told him no I was feeling a bit under the weather and feeling sore he back off turning his back to me then all a sudden he turns and grabs me and pinned me down and started sexually assaulting me, as I was crying from the pain, after a whole year of this abuse as I ended it with him, I was so petrified of him because he was so angry when I ended and then he started accusing me that I was cheating on me which I don't believe in cheating I've never believed in it, and he still continues to accusing me of cheating, which I denied this was happening and he would pick fights with me I was so scared of him already but I continued to stay strong because of my family then he would started using pictures of me I was wearing dresses which owned and started saying I was Exploiting or showing guys that I wanted s*x from.them which was not true and the worse of it my mum was already manipulated by him and she told me off because of he was saying when she didn't even let me explain and I've never felt alone, I couldn't tell anyone of my experience of abuse and sexual assault to my family because they would judge me saying this my fault and I let this happen after ward two weeks he started trying to Stalk me on dating websites to try and to control who I was seeing under his control and the next day my friend decided for me to travel on another bus then him and we both sat down and he then suddenly got on the same bus, I was so scared at this point where I was shaking and my friend was distracting me and when we got off my stop my friend came with me to make sure I got home safe, and I saw the bus leave my friend and me were waiting for my mum when to my horror my ex came charging at me with his hands on the air and the rage in his eyes and tongue out and started having a go at me saying I have explaining to do when I have no explanation to him he didn't deserve my explanation as my Friend started talking to him and telling to go to the police about his state then he walked off and my mum arrived and took my friend home and we got home and that I've never been so scared after a couple of weeks the last thing my ex boyfriend said to me after walking past me on my normal bus and he quickly said to me "I must go die" and how this guy has ruined my life, after 9 years going on 10 years I've been pretty much alone not being able to talk to anyone amd this guy is able to kill me with the way he use to hit me and assault me thinking he was in the right, so after 9 years going on 10 years I have reminded in hiding and I live in a different county now but the effects of this still remain after the whole year of his abuse as affected me for the rest of my life, i even ended up in another relationship with a guy but he was the exactly the same as my first ex and now my trust is completely destroyed in my life and now I will still be friends with men but no longer get close or even start a relationship with any men, I am now left with PDSD, my anxiety is through the room, I suffer with flash backs of his abuse, but I still haven't told my family of the abuse I went through amd I still hear the word my last ex told me to go die, but I can tell you now I've done this courage to write out for people to hear my story and if your going through is your not alone and if i managed to get out of two abusive relationship you can as well amd it's been a real eye opener for me and since ive been alone I've never felt so safe because no one can hurt me unfortunately I do suffer with crying outburst or extreme mental breakdowns because of this abuse amd trauma. And this is my story

Hi my name is Survivor Name and this is my sexual assault story. During Date, I was raped by someone I knew for a couple years and he was not given any consequences because the legal system in my country Country is; well it might as well not exist. My case is still pending in 2023. His name is Name 1, he is about Identifying Features His ego is titanic and when I reported the assault, he proceeded to spread the rumor that we were dating for a long time and that I lied about being raped because he 'broke my heart'. Which is funny because before that terrible night, I had not seen him in months and there is no evidence to support his claim. When I reported him, I blocked his phone number, so he proceeded to call everyone in my family going into detail about how he raped me, the fact that he knew I was not in a state of mind to give consent, and every little gruesome detail of what he did to me. My parents recorded his confession and gave it to the police who have yet to do anything. My whole family was and is still not supportive of my healing journey. Especially my unfortunately biological brother, Name 2 Name 2 Phone Number Anyway so this week actually he spam messaged me a bunch of hate (as he usually does based on no rational logic). So he is very condescending, aggressive, lacks empathy for others, homophobic, racist, all the great things about society, and this is the newest one he is a wanna-be rapist. Yes, he texted me that he wants to take turns raping me with Name 1, yes that's right, my biological "brother". He went into disgusting detail and he knows that I have also been sexually abused as a kid by two alcoholic older men and he said he wants to bring them back from the grave to finish me off because I am a "nasty whore". Then he went on to say how I made it all up for attention and to get things, he said he purchases illegal drugs from my rapist, Name 1, he said I belong in a straight jacket, photoshopped a picture of my face onto a straight jacket (because I had and still suffer from severe PTSD, and had past suicidal thoughts). He said he wished I was successful at committing suicide, he called my excellent therapist whom I have the utmost respect for a "crazy person doctor"- yes he doesn't care about the topic of mental health. Fun fact: his current girlfriend used to see the exact same therapist. He is just hateful towards women and I guess wants to start a rape club or something. He is truly an awful person. My grandmother is financially responsible for all of my siblings and myself and he has access to her bank accounts because she doesn't know how to do online banking as she is old, basically he did a full financial take over of her accounts and won't give her the passwords to her own accounts. He now believes her money is his and threatened to make my life hell, blocked me from my grandmother's phone, deleted her chat in WhatsApp that had a lot of important information, against my grandmother's will- elderly abuse. "Men" like Name 2 and Name 1 are not real men, they are abusive cowards, and I am strong and I have a voice so I'm sharing my story. And I know I put their names there, they can't hide forever. Other survivors of similar sexual assaults and abuse, please feel free to reach out to me to talk, I could use some extra support right now, thank you for reading.

They say that the people you love are supposed to protect and care for you. I believed that for a very long time, until January 26th, 2021. That day changed my life forever. I had been talking to this boy on and off for over a year, and I loved him very much. Looking back, I was very naive and oblivious to the fact that he was manipulative, spiteful, and all around just a horrible person. He would control every aspect of my life. What I wore, who I hung out with, what I did everyday, what I ate. I was a prisoner. I had him over to watch a movie, and told him before hand I didn’t want to do anything. He came over, snuggled up with me, and we began watching a movie. You know that feeling you get when something wrong but you just don’t know what, I had that feeling, but ignored it. He kissed me, which was okay with me. Then he started groping me and pinning me down so I couldn’t move. I froze up, I had no idea what was happening and I was so scared that if I tried to stop him, he would get angry and just do whatever he wanted to me. So he kept going and I was in such shock I couldn’t move or speak. I finally got him off of me before he could, you know. But he left after he realized what had happened. I have been traumatized in my own mental prison and I didn’t tell anyone. His parent is a cop and I didn’t think anyone would believe me over him. I feel so trapped. Over the course of two months, I’ve developed an eating disorder, insomnia, and I have at least four panic attacks a day. It’s actual hell. Only one person knows what happened, my best friend. She’s been my rock through this. I’m starting to not blame myself as much and point the blame where it’s due. I don’t want him to control me anymore than he used to.